


Lovebirds

by superbella99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Almost smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Conversations, Curses, Dean Ships It, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Housewife Reader, Hunters & Hunting, Husbands, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Love, Mutual Pining, POV Sam Winchester, POV reader, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sickness, Smiles and Happiness, Unrequited Love, Violence, Wives, annoying neighbors, hunting with the winchesters, husband!sam - Freeform, lovebirds, old cars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbella99/pseuds/superbella99
Summary: It hurts, it physically pains you to love him this much. But whats a fake marriage without some actual feelings?





	1. You’re Really Going To Make Me Beg?

**Author's Note:**

> After binging other fake relationship fics I was super inspired to create my own. This story pulls ideas from a couple of my favourite but I am by no means plagiarizing. Any similarities are purely coincidental, I promise.  
> Anyway, with that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this new story I have worked so hard on!

You don't normally do this, this whole asking for help thing. It just wasn't in your personality to depend on others, hunting taught you that years ago. At the beginning you were naive and trusted too much, maybe it was the shock and fear. All you know is that you will never make yourself vulnerable like that again. Most hunters are douches anyway, just because they save the world they seem to think that excuses them from being nice, or at least polite. At any rate, It was better this way. You didn't have to deal with male hunters and their egos and definitely not the backstabbing female hunters that always seemed to weasel their way into your protective bubble then pop in. It turns out you just have bad luck with other hunters.  
That is except for the Winchesters, which leads you to your current position, practically begging the damn Winchesters for help. As much as you'd love to just bust in guns blazing and salt and burn the ghost alone, this hunt had turned out to be more complicated than you first thought and you need backup. Sam and Dean are your only option at this point.  
“Please Dean, you know I don't normally do this,” you say with a sigh. Although most of the time you got along just peachy with the eldest brother, his stubbornness at times is infuriating.   
“I know, that's the whole point sweetheart. If you need help it’s something big and I don't want to get dragged into that shit. We've got our own problems at the moment.”  
“Come on, you’re really going to make me beg?”  
“I think I already have..”   
Sam chuckled as your anger swelled. Dean settled down further in his seat, obviously pleased with himself. You wanted to slap that smirk right off his perfect face.  
“Fine, I'll go by myself and get myself killed. Knowing you, you probably won't even notice I'm gone.” you hiss as you fumble with your jacket while attempting to storm off. You know what you said is petty, and you want to go back apologize but Dean’ stubbornness seems to rub off and make you just as stubborn as he is. You barely make it a few steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you turn to face Sam's heartbroken face.   
“Don't you ever think that; we will definitely help you.”  
“But what about Dean” you mumble, entranced by Sam’s puppy dog eyes. “Don't worry about him, I'm sure he'll come around. He's just stressed and needs someone besides me to take it out on,” he answers with a smile and you can't help but soften at his words. Sam has always been the sweeter brother, it's not like Dean cannot be, it's just your relationship with him is more like teasing siblings or an old married couple. With Sam it's different.   
"Thanks, call me in the morning so we can meet up and I can catch you up on the hunt."  
"Sounds good."  
He turns and walks back to the table, softly chatting to Dean who glances up and with a grumble gives a sharp nod. You reply with a small smile and mouthed thanks at Sam before turning on your heels and exiting the diner.  
\--------------------  
The knock on the door startles you, making you almost jump off the springy motel bed. You chidd yourself before creaking the door open slowly. The sight of the towering men is more intimidating than it usually is. They stride in easily and you shadow them to the small table, shutting the door as quietly as possible.   
Deans face lit up and gave you a flirty wink when you confessed your true intentions. “Oh, so you just want a hot dude on your arm. No, I get it,” he said, still grinning. You cringe at his giddiness and try and defend yourself but Sam’s low voice interrupts.  
“Dean,” Sam countered sternly back before switching back to talking to you. “So what are you thinking? We go in pretending to be married so we can hunt the ghost?”  
“Hey! What about me?” Dean whined and started digging through the mini bar that the crappy motel seemed to still have; it looks as though it had only been stocked once, years ago.   
With the sound of the brothers bickering in the background, your insides churned at the thought of Sam, without a doubt, wanting to be fake married to you. This was going to be a long week.   
\-------------------  
"So, Sammy, you wanna drive my truck? I could use some extra sleep."   
I was painfully obvious how much time he spent scrunched up in that vintage car Dean had. Although you must admit it look beautiful, your equally vintage truck was more practical if not spacious. Sam’s expression definitely indicted his joy as you tossed him the keys.   
“It's like you gave him a puppy Y/N.” Dean snickered as he turned to walk the other way to his Chevy. You were just starting to snicker at how on point Dean’s description was before he talked again, “You two lovebirds have fun” he called over his shoulder and you were glad that Sam was already starting up the truck, as you blushed at the implications. Dean was usually pretty fun but this situation seemed to bring out every flirty remark and joke. You're glad you won't have to spend the next few hours with him in the Impala.   
Instead, you spent them joking and laughing with Sam until your stomachs hurt and you can't breathe. He told you funny stories about life on the road with Dean, all the stupid pranks and fights. His eyes would light up when you cracked a bad joke or said a cheesy pun, it would cause your own to crinkle as a warm feeling fluttered through your bones. Just being in his presence, breathing the same air, caused the feeling to grow, and when his gaze met yours, you practically melted.   
It was beyond you how this Greek god of a man was here next to you, his wonderful laughter all because of you. It seemed wrong to be the one he smiled at and talked with, you knew his type, and you were not it. But then the coil in your stomach grew even tighter as you thought about the days ahead, you would have to pretend to be his wife for God knows how long. How will you be able to stay normal when Sam fucking Winchester is your fake husband?  
“Y/N?” Suddenly the panic was replaced with a different kind as you slammed back to earth. Sam's voice was loud as you practically jumped in your seat. “You okay?”  
“Yeah, uh- I'm fine. Sorry, just got distracted,” you mumbled out. Your hand automatically coming to run through your hair. Sam looked over and casually smiled before turning back to driving. “I can see that. Who were you thinking about?"  
"What?" the panic doubling as Sam chuckled a low laugh.  
"No one smiles that way and wasn't thinking about someone they like. I've been around Dean long enough to know to recognize it anywhere." you can feel your cheeks start to flush. God, it’s like being back in middle school, what’s with the whole ‘like’ business?  
"It's- it’s nothing. Just keep your eyes on the road, don't you dare crash my truck." you automatically turn defensive, pushing yourself as far away as you can emotionally, there is not enough space to leave physically.   
"Okay, okay. Calm down, you are almost as bad as Dean." Sam said, trying to stop the laughter your expression brought on. It was the most serious bitch face he had ever seen.  
"Hey. You take that back, I am no way anywhere close to Dean."  
"You keep thinking that." he chuckled and you humphed even more.  
\--------------------  
You should probably be staying in the moment instead of wandering off into your thoughts and daydreams but Sam turned on the radio and it seemed a natural end to the conversation. So now you lay with your body slightly twisted towards the window as the endless cornfields of the midwest blur together along the winding country road. You've lost Dean long ago.   
Although you keep trying to push them out, your thoughts are filled with Sam, not all of them necessarily PG either. They make you shiver. It feels wrong to think of Sam this way. The Winchester’s are the only hunters you actually get along with and they seem to feel the same way. So you try and make excuses, some bullshit about ruining the friendship if he turns you down and then the awkwardness that would ultimately follow. And as much as you know he will let you down gently and there is that small chance that he does like you back, the idea still taunts you. It creeps into your brain, along with the blush on your cheeks and a small smile as you think of the possibilities. Then it turns dark and cold, Sam’s sympathetic expression causing you even more distress. You don’t want him to be sorry for you, make you feel like something is wrong or weird. It would be better if he just completed fucked you over.  
But then you would be without him. Without the smile that takes over his handsome face. Or his strong arms and hands that give a girl sorta ideas. You wouldn’t be able to joke and make fun of Dean with him, and you wouldn’t be able to do the same with Dean about his eating habits or early morning jogs. Life without him would be even worse with life as it is, in the never-ending friend zone.   
But this hunt might break you. Why did you even give him the choice, choose dean because as much as you know you get along well and he has an endless of flirty jokes and nicknames for you, it will stay platonic. Something you can't guarantee with sam looking at you with these ever-changing eyes and the muscles practically bursting out of his layers as his large hands grip the wheel tight.   
\--------------------  
“So what are going to do then?” Sam asks out of the blue. After around half an hour of silence other than the radio his voice cuts through your thoughts.   
“So, fake marriage thing right…” You try and stay on track and shake of the fluttery feeling that takes over when you think of Sam as your husband. God, this is going to be a long week.  
“Well let’s start with a list of things we need. We’ve already got clothes, I’ve got a couple FBI suits I could wear to ‘work’, but I think we just need rings.”  
“There should be a pawn shop in town.”  
“Good call, but we should probably go the next town over so we don’t blow our cover.” He glances over at you, and your eyes meet.  
“Even better call.” You answer back with a smirk.   
His eyes turn back to the road as you continue down the deserted road. The tall evergreens blur past and the radio plays soft, soothing tunes as you settled down deep into your seat. You watch Sam’s profile and notice the softening of his face, the guilt and sadness lifting of his face, taking away years. So you keep laughing and joking, making him do the same. As long as he’s happy, there nothing more you could ever want.  
\--------------------  
The gruff man begins the counter grunts a hello as you and Sam walk in. It’s like every single pawn shop you have ever been in. The walls are lined with trinkets and dusty antiques. The glass cases contain an extensive collection of jewellery and other valuables. The owners face immediately lights up when you ask to look at the rings.  
Despite having an extensive collection of phones shaped like cartoon characters, they have a small selection of wedding bands. Your best option is a simple and modest princess cut diamond set in white gold and a matching plain band of the same colour. Sam didn't seem to care, he would have been happy to get a rotary phone shaped like Roger rabbit he was eyeing.   
“Come on, we'd better go. I just got a text from Dean saying to meet him at a local diner in ten.” sam reports as his arm around your waist guides you towards the cash register.   
“So what're you kids up to?” the man asks as he ran up your purchase. “You could get much nicer rings at the Pandora around the corner” he teases, but with a sincere look in his eyes.  
“Actually, we were wondering if you’ve heard anything about the deaths in the area-” you say, turning to face Sam. He raises his eyebrows and follows your lead, “It would really help out the investigation, Sir.”  
“Sorry I don't know much, and what are you, Police?” he asks, a bit of a southern drawl in his gruff voice.   
“FBI actually, and thank you for your time. We’d better be going.” Sam answers with a curt nod and a flash of his badge. You thank him as well and exit the shop. The little bell ringing at the door shuts behind you.   
\-------------------  
A little bell dings and Sam has to duck slightly so as not to ring it again. You huff a soft laugh at his height problems and he retorts with a scowl. Dean jumps up from the table when he sees you walk in. “So how's it going, lovebirds?” he inquires as Sam sits down across from him, you take your spot next to Sam.   
“Oh, nothing much, we just did some shopping for our new house, bought wedding rings.” you kid and are surprised when Dean begs to see the ring. Sam just sighs and mutters something about ‘it's like being with children’ as you and Dean admired the diamond that as you informed him of the cut, karat and weight.   
“What's up next then” Sam interrupts.   
“I was thinking we do a tour of the house with the realtor, we want to look like we're actually interested in it,” you explain while grabbing at the menu next to Dean. “Sounds like a plan?” you add, looking back up at Sam.   
“Good call,” he says with a smile, you answer back with your own. You stay that way long enough for Dean to cut in with a muttered ‘lovebirds’. You snap out of eye contact with Sam and give Dean a Level One Bitchface, just enough snark and annoyance to get him to roll his eyes. That shuts him up.  
“We should also have Dean stop by and do most of the outside work, we don't want to attract even more attention.” Sam meets your eyes again. “Even better call.”  
Dean shakes his head and states out loud with a sigh. “I think I'm going to get the double cheeseburger.”


	2. But I'm Your Wife.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam settle into life as a (fake) married couple, but drama and sexual tension makes it difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the love I got on the first chapter alone! Feel free to leave kudos and comments, I will try to reply as best I can.  
> I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!  
> Bella xx

It's a quaint one-story bungalow house, shingles painted a soft birds egg blue with a white picket fence and matching shutters with a garden filled with blooming flowers and shrubs. A harsh black driveway runs up one side a joins a path leading to the white painted door. It's perfect in every way. You almost wish you could stay forever before you're reminded of the current scenario when Sam dips down and whispers in your ear “be careful, she might be possessed”. His hand slips into yours and squeezes, it's vaguely reassuring.   
You follow the agents shiny patent leather heels as they thump on the hardwood flooring. She points out the lush garden and granite countertops. You fake your dismay as she informs you of the ‘accidents’ as she calls them. If only she knew.  
“Actually that's why we're here. Were major true crime fanatics-” Sam chats calmly with the lady.   
“And well, we tried to get Jeffrey Dahmer's house…” you finished, plastering a phoney smile on your face and slipping into Sam's side, his arm wrapping cosy around your waist. You take a deep breath.   
The agent seemed a little shocked but continued on. “Well… isn't that nice,” she spoke with suspicion and judgment in her perky voice. “Let's go look at the living room”  
\--------------------  
As soon as you signed the papers and the realtor left, you breathed a sigh of relief. Although she was helpful in telling you about the murders, with some prodding on Sam’s part, she seemed to get onto every single one of your nerves. Maybe it was the less than subtle flirting with Sam, who is to her a married man. Or her judgment towards you. It just spiked your jealousy and envy even more. Fortunately, she was happy to rent the house on such short notice.  
Sam plops down on the light grey sectional, stretched his limbs. You join, nudging him to move over.  
“Hey, there's tons of room, and we can quit the act. You don't have to keep up the cuddly stuff.” Sam grunts as you plop yourself practically onto his lap.  
Sam shifts out of your space, you just lean in more and whisper in his ear. Your so close you can practically feel his stubble tickling your cheek. It takes all your courage to speak.  
“We need to keep up the charade. If it’s ghost haunting the house then it has to believe that we are truly in love.” Sam sucked in a breath when you came to straddle his lap, softly kissing his cheek for added effect. “Just go with it.” You breathe before standing back up and motioning Sam to follow you outside.  
You take a deep breath while slipping on your shoes and padding outside, Sam right behind. Sam is slightly taken aback but shakes it off when you turn back around to face him.   
“What was that?” He asks when he joins you next to your truck.   
“Like I said, if it’s a ghost possession than we need to act like all the other couples who died. We need to be married.” You said nervously, still partly flustered by the previous encounter. You can feel the blush on your cheeks and see it on settling on the apples of Sam’s.  
“Well then, we’d better start unpacking,” he states with a sigh. He walks around you to the truck bed and grabs the box of random decorations and homey stuff you found at the pawn shop earlier. The rolled up sleeves of the flannel he’s wearing shows of his strong muscles and you have to take a minute to compose yourself before you help him.  
\--------------------  
The rest of the day passes without a hitch. Dean stops in to inform you of the hotel he's staying at and the cafe to meet him at for breakfast in the morning. Sam helps you unpack and write a list of domestic chores to complete the next day. And no more intimacy or even much conversation is exchanged until after dinner.  
Once the sun sets a pale pinky orange behind the trees, you and Sam settle down on the couch to watch a movie. You weren't quite focused, seemingly alert to Sam's every movement, and drowsy from the long, busy day.   
His body was like a furnace next to yours. Wrapped under a blanket, his chest was warm and comforting so you snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. Sams arms wrapped around you his fingers twirled small circles on your upper arm.   
Usually, after a long road trip you immediately hit the sack and have a nap. This lack of your usual sleep plus the gentle soothing sound of Sam's breathing and the rise and fall of his chest lulled you to sleep before the movie ended.   
\--------------------  
The next morning you wake up in bed next to Sam’s still sleeping form. The white walls and heavy blankets are unfamiliar when you first open your eyes and you almost forget that Sam is sleeping next to you. That is until you roll over and accidentally hit him in the back. Immediately stiffening and cringing once you realize.   
He grunts and shifts so he can sit up. “Sorry.” you sat drowsily as you too move up into a more comfortable position.   
“It's fine, I just hope this isn't the way you're going to wake me up every day.” Sam chuckles, running his large hands through his bed head, gently smoothing his chestnut waves as you try to not stare.  
You feel weirdly exposed and pull the blanket up over your chest even if you are only still wearing the t-shirt and sweats you changed into last night. Your brain is fuzzy despite not having little to drink, by hunters standers at least, maybe a glass of wine and a finger of whisky? The memories come back...  
“Did you carry me to bed last night?” you question, trying to keep your eyes off his exposed chest. “You know you could've just left me on the couch.”   
"Yeah, but then you'd wake up with a kink in your neck and you'd complain about it all day today… it would be a huge mess.” Sam joked as you threw off the covers and padded over to the adjoined bathroom. Leaving to door open, you see him lit up by the harsh lights, standing in just his boxrs and a crew neck shirt he grabbed from the armchair on the way.   
“Shut up Sammy.”   
You heard a soft chuckle before he came to stand next to you brushing your teeth. “I thought I told you not to call me Sammy.” he hissed, only partially kidding. “I know, but I'm your wife.”   
You played up the married act and planted a kiss on his stubbly face. He just grunted in mock annoyance before going through his morning routine alongside you.  
“When are we supposed to meet Dean?” you asked after you were both done in the bathroom. You trailed after Sam back into the bedroom.   
“Nine o'clock I think, it definitely won't be earlier, I doubt he's even awake yet.”   
“Right, probably with some girl” you mumbled before realizing why the two of you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. It's time to get dressed...  
“Did you unpack the clothes?” he looks down at you just as you look up, your eyes meeting for a split second before snapping away.   
“Yes,” you say meekly. The tension grows tenfold with that one little word.   
“Okay..”  
He padds over to the dresser and you follow his lead, partly out of sheer nervousness. The drawers squeak open and the clothes rustle but you don't dare glance over. Sam finally cleared his throat after a minute or two and you heard his drawer being closed. You did the same before grabbing your makeshift pyjamas and stuffing them under your pillow. You gave Sam a forced smile from the other side of the bed.  
\--------------------  
You walk into the small cafe you noticed yesterday while driving through town. It's not surprising that you beat Dean. After Sam paid for your food and drinks, even after fruitless attempts at you trying to at least split it, you found a nice table by the window and settle down. The two of you chatted casually until Dean barges through the door dressed in his FBI suit.  
“What's up little bro, your wife got you whipped yet?” Dean asked with a smirk plastered on his face. “Hey! I'm right here,” you answer bitterly, the caffeine from the coffee still hasn't hit you.   
“Sorry sweetheart, you lovebirds just look so cosy on that bench seat.”   
“You have never once called me sweetheart, and you never will again. What got you in such a good mood?” you snapped back and Sam grins next to you, equally curious about Dean’s chipper mood.  
“The woman performing the autopsy was super hot-” you and Sam audibly groan”-and I got her number. You guys should be proud that I already got work done. What have you guys been up to? No, wait, let me guess. You were probably doing it like rabbits, weren't you?”  
“Dean!” Sam hissed, trying not to disturb the other patrons. You could feel the blush creep up your cheeks as Dean reached over to take a piece of your muffin.  
“I know, I know, you’re ‘just friends’’, but you are supposed to be married.”  
You're sure you look like a tomato at this point as you abruptly stand up and exit the cafe quickly. You can hear Sam following you and Dean's half-apology echoing.  
“Let's go back to the house,” Sam says calmly, yet you can tell he is both an angry and apprehensive as you are.  
\--------------------  
The day is hot and humid, the breeze offering a small relief as Sam mows the lawn under the sweltering sun. Sam stopped for a second, surveying his work. The place already came with adequate furniture as well as the necessary linens and kitchenware, yet you still found things for him to do. He accepted every chore you gave him, it kept him distracted. Stopped him from thinking those wild thoughts that he swore himself long ago he would ignore and get rid of. So if mowing the lawn for what felt like hours kept you out of his head, well then so be it.   
Still, his mind wandered to yesterday and the way your body felt pressed on his, the tingles your breath gave him, your warmth making him shiver. And your words also drilled into his head. “We need to be married.” That and the events of this morning, His heart beated even faster.  
Then you stepped out onto the back deck holding a glass of lemonade and suddenly his apple pie life fantasies all came true. You smiled and waved him over before making a joke about being a housewife he was too distracted to remember.   
“You look sweaty so I thought you might want a nice cold glass of lemonade.” you giggled as you handed him the glass.   
“Wow, I feel like I'm in a sitcom from the 50s.” he joked. Not trying to hide his appreciation. The blush on your cheeks indicated your awareness of his subtle flirting. Boy was he cute.   
“I know right, I found this dress in a trunk in the basement and I gave me major ‘I Love Lucy’ vibes, thought I'd try it one. You like it?” you spun around a little, showing of the circle skirt that flared out. He was flustered for a second with how carefree and happy you were. For all the time that he's known you, you’ve always been cut off and defensive. It's refreshing to see you let down your hair both literally and metaphorically.   
“Definitely” he answered after a second of taking you in, then leaned to give you a kiss on the cheek.   
“Well, get back to work,” you said cheerily while you turned to walk away, then called over your shoulder with a wink, continuing the flirtiness. ”And don't be afraid to take off your shirt.”  
Sam smirked and shook his head, questioning if you were actually flirting with him or was just keeping up the ruse. Either way, he blushed as he started back up the lawn mower. And just because you said it, he took off his sweaty shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Dean researches for the hunt while the implications behind his words cause problems between you and Sam.


	3. The weird thing about dreams is that you don't often remember them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman shows up at the door, you develop a sickness, and Dean does all the research.  
> Which one is the strangest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... it has been a long time since I posted but that's summer break for you.   
> I will try my hardest to resume a posting schedule like before so don't worry. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm sure you will like the next.

Dean said that he would handle the hunt, research and all, and goddammit he will. Even if it means going through every single online article or photo slide from the town archives, he will do it himself. He's always felt bad that he put most of it on Sammy, especially when he was young. Now though he seems to enjoys it, or at least more than Dean.  
He promised to do all the work so that Sam and Y/N would quit dancing around each other and just fuck already. All he did was try and push those two together. All that flirting with her so that Sam would get jealous. Always inviting her any time they even slightly needed backup, all so they could get off their asses and confess their feelings.  
So Dean spent that entire day in the library staring blankly at a screen, going over every single last detail to make sure he could gank it. He told Sam not to do anything unless he specifically asked for help, something he hopes they are abiding by. And now they would be stuck in that tiny house together for an entire day after he made that comment this morning, it was perfect.   
It was only made better when he found the missing link between the murders and the history of the house. Y/N had explained that the two oddly similar cases that had made her take the hunt were both the same as an event that took place in the late 50s. The wife had discovered that her husband was cheating on her and stabbed him repeatedly before killing herself with a shot through the head. The only problem was that both the first wife, Mary-Lou Anderson, and her husband, William Anderson, were cremated. Dean’s best option is to get salt and burn the house itself. Easier said than done.  
\--------------------  
Around noon you got bored. All the random tasks you had made up the day before were all completed and you and Sam were once again stretched out on the couch.   
“We should go for a walk.” You state after several minutes of silence. “Where did that come from?” Sam asks as his shifts around to face you.  
“I just need to get out of the house, we could talk or something.” For being super smart almost Stanford graduate, it takes him a couple seconds to get what you were hinting at.  
“You okay Sammy? You seem a little off.” You ask, inching closer and naturally place your hand on his arm.  
“I’m fine.” He grunts out, standing up and twisting out of your touch. “I’m just going to grab a jacket.” He says while walking off down the hall. You sit pondering his actions until he exits the bedroom wearing an extra layer. By that time you already beginning to put in your shoes by the front door.   
He quickly joins you, perching on the short bench in the corner. “We’re really going to do this.” He asks quietly, standing up after pulling in his Chelsea boots. “I think so-“ you mumble, looking down, not wanting to make eye contact.   
The tension grows as he steps out the door. The churning, tingling feeling in your stomach increases as you step out the door after him. With your arms crossed over your chest, you try and set up an invisible barrier, as if the emotions could spill out any moment.  
The day is warm and breezy and the humidity seems to smack you in the face once you step outside. Sams jacket is shaken off in the first minute as you stroll down the street.   
“Tonight. After dinner.” You say in a small voice after a couple minutes of silence. You’re desperately trying to stay focused on the tiny stain on your shoes. You can’t bear to look at him.  
“Need me to buy condoms?” Sam says, obviously flustered, it just makes you blush harder. You slow your pace down until you’re stood standing still on the curb.   
“No-no..” you quickly say with a small shake of the head. “We don’t actually need to do it, we can fake it or something thing.” You stutter out, frazzled and nervous.   
Sam looked down at you and managed a sympathetic smile. “Sorry for jumping to conclusions.” His puppy dog eyes make you relax greatly even with the heavy tension that haunted every word.  
“S’okay”  
\--------------------  
It was only a couple minutes after you arrived back at the house that a soft knock echoed through two the basement where you were digging through the antique trunks filled with vintage clothing and costume jewellery. You scramble to your feet and race up the stairs, not sure who would be at the door. It might very well be Dean but when has he ever knocked and not just let himself in?   
The soft, blurred outline of a tall blonde woman can be seen through the wavy glass featured on the front door. The knocking persists until you swing the door open to reveal a woman holding a plate of freshly baked cookies.   
“Hi!” She says in a peppy voice, a polite smile stretching across her face. “My names Holly, I live at number 36, I saw that you moved in a couple days ago so I thought I'd bake you famous double chocolate peanut butter cookies!' she said, her smile seemingly still growing. You force a smile of your own and thank her, trying not to show your annoyance. In any other situation you would have sincerely accepted the baked goods and welcomed her in for a drink, this hunt just had you wound so tight it was hard to relax and accept the perky welcome she was offering.   
“Whos this, honey?” a deeper voice askes from behind you, the heavy weight of sams arms coming to wrap around your waist. You don't dare question your emotions at sams protectiveness and instead settle comfortably at his side as he chats with Holly.   
You slip in and out of the conversation, the voices sometimes getting distorted and your eyelids heavy. A bitter feeling grows in your mouth just as Sam's hazel eyes look down and asking if you're ok.   
Maybe the door closed, you weren't really sure. But it must be Sam carrying you, his strong arms supporting your trembling frame as he swept the door open and placed you on the cold duvet. He must have tucked you in as your eyelids grow heavy and his hushed whispers echo into a dream.  
\--------------------  
They all appear in your dream, taunting you. You can't avoid them, they're all around. Ruby's eyes are black and baren, Amelia's voice drenched in sweetness, same as Jess. They threaten and scream how you are not worthy of Sam's love and affection. You should just leave, don't even tell him why. Madison howls of the consequences, the death and despair that haunts him. And maybe for one second, you listen you understand the message, the truth that has been questioned in your mind a thousand times before.   
Ultimately, you wake up, that's how it always ends, just when you are gearing up to defend yourself you wake up, or worse the Winchester brothers think they can save you. Oddly enough it was the latter that for the first time existed in this dream. And once you open your eyes his were only a foot away, laying down next to you. He asks a question but your not listening, your more focused on the new faces that appeared in your dream. Jealous as you may have been in the moment, you don't remember thinking too much of the real estate agent and bizarrely that woman holly.   
The weird thing about dreams is that you don't often remember them. You might retain one small picture, odd sense or feeling but usually not much more. And so it seems is the case is the same this time. Once you tune in to Sam's words, most of the visuals are gone, wiped out of your memory.   
\--------------------  
Meeting up with Dean at the library should have helped relieve some of the sexual tension and make you feel better, a little fresh air is what you needed according to sam. However as soon as you walked in, you headed straight for the washroom. You stayed leaning against the stall door until your heart rate slowed down and your breathing settled. The dull ache in your chest remained as you took a deep breath and rejoined the brothers.  
“There she is!” Dean pronounces when you entered his line of sight. “Sounds like you and Sammy-boy had a fun talk.”  
Sam huffs with annoyance, “Just stop, Dean you’re not making the situation any better.”   
You clench your jaw to try and stop the tears they are forming in your cheeks. It feels like your having an overdose of emotions as you try to calmly take a seat at the table, across from Dean. However, your body has other plans and your hands shake and turn clammy, you shove them under your thighs.  
“Fine,” Dean said with a huff before relaying the info he had found about the hunt. It seemed like a simple salt a burn, discounting the fact that there were no bodies to burn.   
“So, should we go burn the house now?” You question after Dean finishes talking. “I don’t know, we’re going to have to do some organizing beforehand,” he answers, glancing over at his brother.  
“He’s right.” Sam adds, “we don’t want it to look suspicious.”  
The two brothers keep chatting together, discussing the hunt and the various ways they could gank the spirit. You couldn’t focus on their words, the aching stress making it hard to concentrate.   
“Y/N, you okay? You seem distracted.” Dean turns to face you as Sam spoke. You slowly blinked and shook your head meekly. “I don’t feel so good, I’m going to head out. I’ll meet you back at the house, Sam.”   
He nods and gives you a sympathetic smile. “Okay, get some rest.”  
You don’t look at him in the eyes when your chair creaks back and you turn to leave. It’s only when his eyes leave you that you indulge in his image. You are both permanently drawn and repelled by him, only watching him when he isn’t looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Dean tapped his foot impatiently as his brother's voicemail message rang through his phone.   
> “It's Sam Winchester, please leave your message after the tone.” Sam's prerecorded voice made him clench his jaw and huff a low sigh. Dean pushed back into his chair, the front legs pulling up from the old, scratched floor. His fingers dragged over the screen again and speed dialled another number.   
> “You’ve reached Y/N’s phone, I don’t know how you got this number but it better be an emergency.”


	4. An emotionally unstable man in love with his best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns from bad to worse.

Sam knows how she feels, that same fluttering butterfly feeling also founds its way down his chest to his abdomen. It’s stayed restless his stomach since the moment her sweet voice founds its way to his ears. just seeing her name light up on the small screen made his heart leap. Dean would always grumble about her yet sam knew his true intentions, Dean was an even worse liar. Sam couldn't believe how long had carried this secret, it must have been since he first met her all those years ago. Maybe that's what makes him want to keep it.  
He feels bad for thinking that hiding his feelings is what’s best, the logical side screams that it will end badly, his emotional side dominates this time though. It’s completely eclipsed the intelligent, book smart Sam and into an emotionally unstable man in love with his best friend. How he’s made it this long is beyond him.  
Right now he just takes it one day at a time, seeking out the moments of clarity in the haze she creates within him. Deep breaths hunched over in a corner and long blinks when she’s not looking, it only relaxes him slightly. And seeing her on those dresses and the whole situation makes him push his feelings down even more.   
Dean’s teasing doesn’t make it any better. As soon as she left the jokes sprung up again. Dean chuckled and chatted to himself as Sam stayed quiet, there was no use trying to defend against his brother anymore, Dean could read him like a book. All he could do now was try and get through the next couple days without ruining both the hunt and his beloved friendship with Y/N.   
At the beginning he thought he could do this, it sounded fun, a chance to relax and have a glimpse of a perfect life if only for a day. Then suddenly it got out of hand, her flirting was returned with his and the sexual tension hit its peak. Yet even in the awkward, tense moments, he wouldn’t want to go back and change is choice.   
Because every moment that he is even breathing the same air as her or has the opportunity to have a just a glimpse of her intelligence and beauty is magical. He’s not one for cheesy movies or meet cutes yet he suddenly wants to bend over backwards to do anything for her, and not just out of selflessness. He’d do anything for her and all he wishes is that she feels the same.  
As much as she smiles, laughs, strokes his arm, kisses his cheeks and plays along with the act he still has a poignant buzz in his brain that reminds him that she could never feel the same way. He tries no to believe it, not even listen, but it gets harder to drown out the little voice listing every reason for him to hate him. It’s like Lucifer all over again.  
It’s Dean’s annoying tapping of his pen that forces Sam up and out of the chair. He knew that Dean was in full control of his fidgeting and was just giving him that last push, and maybe later he will thank him, all he concentrates in now is breathing. He focuses on the sound of the air flowing to his lungs and the soft thump his shoes create hitting the sidewalk. The rhythm calms him down, brings back some control.   
\--------------------  
Sam slams the door shut with his foot, not bothering to turn around. It’s only a second and then his shoes are off and laying haphazardly by the door. His jacket finds itself on the couch as he passes through the living room on the way to the kitchen. He can smell food cooking and hears the soft alternative rock you listen to echoing out of the speaker. He smiles at the domestically of the situation. He ponders if he should announce himself, say something like ‘hey honey I’m home’ and add to the feeling, but he settles on surprising you.  
Your wearing one of those vintage dresses you mentioned the other day. The big skirt and tight waist accentuate your curves as you chop some vegetables. Sams heart races and a smile pulls at his features. You sway to the music as Sam creeps up behind you and places his hands on your hips, placing a gentle kiss on your exposed neck.  
You turn slightly to face him, forcing a smile on your face to hide your nervousness. Even if you had all afternoon to prepare yourself, it still feels too soon. If Sam notices he doesn’t do anything but continue to kiss his way up to your lips.  
You relax against him once you turn completely around completely and your hands wind into his hair. He groans in response. It makes you smile when he basically manhandles you up into the counter. The anxiety has passed but the tension grows stronger when you start to grind yourself on his hips. You don’t know if Sam’s just playing the role or is actually into it but his grunts seem pretty real as you tug on his hair once more.  
He leans into you and starts nibbling on your ear, hiding the whispered words he mumbles.   
“Do you actually want to do this?” He breaths, hips still jutting against yours. You pause, not sure how to answer. He also tops and stills, his body still partly flush against yours.   
“What do you mean?” You say meekly, both flustered and surprised. “Is this real?” He asks, his mouth still close you your ear, his hot breath sending tingles running down to your core. He hasn’t even said anything dirty yet his words still make you weak in the knees.   
“Do you want to to be?” Is all you manage to get out. His eyes stare deep into your eyes, pulling closer as your arms come to wrap around his neck. “Of course.” Is all he says before his lips crash into yours again. You smile into the kiss and you can feel Sam grinning as well.  
It’s needier if that’s even possible. It’s far past the chaste kisses you shared in the beginning, it’s primal and sloppy. His hands race up from your ass to tug at the zipper at the back of your dress, his other one pulling you close to his chest.   
A hot feeling forms in the apex of your thighs but a numb, uncontrollable feeling follows, tingling through your entire body. Your hands leave his head on their own accord. Your body seems to go on autopilot and you feel yourself losing control. Sam just continued in his rough pace, ripping the top of the dress down to reveal your bra-clad chest.   
Terror runs through your body and your heart beats out of your chest when your hand inches towards the cutting board you had been using earlier. You try to scream Sam’s name but no noise comes out. You start to shake as your hand reaches for the cutting knife. You squirm and shake and Sam draws back slightly asking you if you're okay. He notices the terror on your face only seconds before you jump up, desperately gripping to sam. He grunts in pain when you manage to cut a gash in his shoulder.   
\--------------------  
Dean tapped his foot impatiently as his brother's voicemail message rang through his phone.   
“It's Sam Winchester, please leave your message after the tone.” Sam's prerecorded voice made him clench his jaw and huff a low sigh. Dean pushed back into his chair, the front legs pulling up from the old, scratched floor. His fingers dragged over the screen again and speed dialled another number.   
“You’ve reached Y/N’s phone, I don’t know how you got this number but it better be an emergency.”   
Dean slammed his chair back to the floor and his phone thumped down on the table. He had tried both their phones at least twice, calling all the burner phones he knows the number to. He knew that they were either in trouble or boning and he really didn’t want to be a major cockblock. But this was a hunt and they were in a haunted house. Something might be happening to them, something may have already happened.  
Paranoia crept in as he thought of all the horrible situations they could be in. It doesn't matter that his younger brother is a 6’4 giant, it's his brother and he needs to protect him. It only takes a minute for him to hop up and grab his things before the door to baby closes and the loud purr of her engine rumbles. AC/DC plays as he reverses out of the library parking lot.  
\--------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Sam battles with more than his emotions.


	5. Caught between a rock and a hard place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grunts again, caught between rock and a hard place, and for one silent moment, he feels like giving up.   
> Then his ears pick up a sound beside the endless thumping violence, the neverending empty pain that echoes through his body. A male voice yells, a door slams, footsteps come running.

Sam knows he needs to fight for his life, but it's you, its always been you. Causing all the conflicts in his conscious. The turmoil puts him in a bad spot, he doesn't want to hurt you yet you'll most likely kill him if he doesn't do anything. He doesn't have time to think, once the pain reaches his brain. Before the blood gushes and you twist in his arms. It's life or death and he doesn't know which to choose. And he hasn't even begun to consider why you've suddenly turned into a one-woman killing machine.  
Firstly, the knife is still in your grip, the only thing keeping it from plunging back into his flesh is his grip on your wrist. A sudden whack on the head alarms him of your other free arm and how he's still holding you up. As quick as you had attacked him, he turned and slammed you into the wall, begging for you to fall unconscious. The loud thump makes him cringe, all his hunting techniques feel too dangerous and harmful even though that's the point.   
The blood pumps back up north and he can hear it thumping in his ears. The throbbing pain is amplified as he uses that hand to tug at the knife. One more tug at your wrist and the bloodstained knife clatters to the floor. He doesn't have time to kick it away before you grab his hair and yank so hard he feels he would fall back if your bodies weren't resting against the wall. He grunts again, caught between rock and a hard place, and for one silent moment, he feels like giving up.   
Then his ears pick up a sound beside the endless thumping violence, the neverending empty pain that echoes through his body. A male voice yells, a door slams, footsteps come running. Dean burst around the corner to the sight of you flailing as Sam backs up into the wall repeatedly. A chuckle almost comes out before he sees his brothers pleading face. Sam looks pained, not just physically but mentally. Dean yells three words, he can't do much else until your more vulnerable and not sandwiched against the wall.   
Sam has barely a second to register what Dean said before you’ve managed to squirm off his back while he was distracted. You go for the knife still at Sam’s feet but Dean’s too quick. He locks your arms behind your back as Sam pulls your dress down the rest of the way. The glaze from your eyes clear and the thrashing of your limbs slows to a stop. All that's left his the heavy panting once Dean releases his grip, deciding that your free form the twisted spell.   
You sink to the floor, the effects of internally watching yourself try and kill the man you love are setting in. Fuck, you said it, you love him. This psycho killer housewife stuff has made everything click. You could never survive without him now, whether or not you were the one that killed him.   
\--------------------  
Your partially naked frame collapsed onto Dean, gently sloping you down onto the floor. Sam goes into full protection mode, pulling his flannel of and resting it over your torso, giving you some decency. This was not what he imagined when he thought of the first time he would undress you, slip the soft fabric down her curves and took in her bare beauty. The hopeless romantic inside of him would have wanted dim candlelight and silky sheets. But just like every single aspect of his life, it never goes as he wishes, or even expected.   
Dean steps away, giving his brother some space. A warm smile falls into place as he watches Sam brush your hair out of your face. It feels good to see his brother so happy, so in love. The way he carries your form from the chilly kitchen to the warm bed down the hall. He almost wishes that he could have something like that, a reason to come back home, a warm body to wake up next to every day. He brushes away that pang of jealousy, if his brother is happy, he's happy.  
When Sam reappears from the bedroom, he looks nervous and scared, like a little puppy kicked to the side of the road. There's no hesitation before Dean envelops him in one of his classic brotherly hugs, a tight-lipped smile and a clap on the back. No matter how tall or strong his baby brother has gotten, Dean will always be his protector, even when he puts up a fight, deep down Sam knows that he can rely on Dean.   
“She's going to be ok,” Dean reassures once they release from the hug.   
“I know.. I'm still worried though, worried for her.” Sam says with a shake of his head.  
“Worried for her? You've just been stabbed, you ass. Wait here, I'll go get the medkit from the glove box.” Dean announces, going into ultimate big brother mode. Sam just huffed a low sigh as Dean's footsteps faded.   
Sam sits at your bedside until you wake up. It's only a minute or two that you were unconscious but he feels like a load has been taken off his shoulders when you blink your eyes open. His shoulder is still in pain and he can feel bruises forming on his back but he gives all his attention to you. His body noticeably relaxes when your clammy hands reach and grasp his, the guilt of hurting you is still lodged deep but with every stroke of your hand on his brings him happiness.   
\-------------------  
It's not like your feeling any better. Guilt also haunts you, the terrible truth that you could have killed him, that you hurt him. Even though you had no control whatsoever, that you were under that weird curse or whatever, it still felt so real, you felt the need to kill him, like you had to. You shook that feeling off, there was no use getting hung up on feelings, you were a hunter for god's sake, you were supposed to chug a beer and move on. It's what you always did.   
This time is different somehow, you don't want to move on, you don't want to ditch the second you get a chance, you wish it could continue on forever. Waking up in Sam’s arms, laughing and joking about the stupidest things, even all the tension, you want it all back. You know there is an option of that, you could just tell him, it's not that big a step from the last few days. But that annoying voice lists every single horrible, terrible answer to your confession, and as much as you know Sam, you know his response, you start to question everything.   
The huge duvet suffocates you and you push it off, the cool breeze immediately making you shiver. Sam had left a minute ago, maybe an hour, you weren't quite sure. You must have fallen asleep again. So you pad to the living room, hoping he's there but instead get a disappointment as Dean gets up off the couch to make sure you are alright. You know he means well, Sam that is. He just wants some space, or maybe he thinks you want some too, either way this was probably the best decision. It would never go back the way it was, it's going to be awkward for a while. So if he wants to hide under the excuse of a food run, then you won't question it. Dean looks sad on your behalf, but you put on a brave face and tell him you didn't want to talk to him either. It's better if you put some distance between your emotions and the events of the past week.   
\-------------------  
Sam stands solemnly in the moonlight while the garbage bin filled with old dresses burns quick and fast. In his pockets his blunt nails dig into his calloused palms, it hurts just enough to distract him. Distract him from the ending of what he hopes to call one of the best weekends. Distract himself from his thoughts of you, it's over now, he has to move on. Yet the flickering flames keep him drawn in, the blazing flames reflect in his eyes as he goes over every single moment, every exchange and delicate touch. You have him captivated.  
The words don't leave. They imply things he can't fathom, all this time you had the same feelings? It makes it even harder to leave your side, but he knows that you will be alright, go back to hunting on your own, move past this as he hopes he can. He doesn't want to do this but he also doesn't want to hurt you. You always come first. The wind picks up and he wraps his jacket tighter around his large frame before turning and walking away as the bonfire blazes. There's no use staying, he's just going to break your heart anyway.   
\-------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER   
> An unexpected visitor threatens the whole thing, again.


	6. Hello lover boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some action!

The door creaks open mid-hug. You break from Dean’s embrace to turn and face where the noise is coming from. She's wearing one of the old fifties dresses too, a peachy pink one that looks beautiful against her golden hair. A knife twinkles in her dainty grip. She has a blank expression on her face as she does a horror movie slow walk further into the room, the door slamming hard behind her. By this time you've grabbed a gun from one of the many hidden places. Dean grabbed it from you and hisses something about you passing out less than an hour ago, and points it at her, a scowl and sharp eyes glare at her as he stands at attention.   
“You gave her a dress?” Dean yells before she lunges at him and cuts a line down his chest. You jump into action and tackle the two of them, hoping to knock the weapon out of her hands. She is cunning though and manages to flip around and get on top of you. As Dean stumbles to his feet, you roll around on the floor with her, managing to land a couple punches and mostly dodge her knife, which is still in hand.   
It's only when she somehow manages to obtain your gun when things go from bad to worse. It would be easy to save her once you can disarm her, but now she has two weapons and you have none. Shots ring out and you dive behind the couch, Dean quickly behind. Sprawled out on the floor, you catch your breath, but it's hard when your heart is trying to beat itself out of your chest. The shots stop as she runs out of bullets, but now she’s stalking her way over with the knife again. 

Dean runs his hand on the underside of the couch, searching for some weapon tucked away, you could never be too careful. Just as he rips it out of the duct tape, the sound of splintering wood and a loud bang. You peak over the couch to see Sam standing tall in the doorway, the wooden door lying at his feet. Through the chestnut locks he winks at you, it’s so quick you almost miss it and you question if it was all just your imagination. You breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him before she goes into attack mode again.   
She whips around to face him. “Holly?” he questions as if he wasn't the one who gave her the dress in the first place.   
“Oh, hello lover boy. Thank you so much for the dress.” she breathes seductively, her pink painted nails running down the length of the dress. “And I am so sad that I’m going to have to kill you, I really wish I didn't have to. But you know I just hate two timing cheaters.” she hisses. Sam glowers at her, some of his hair falls down over his face and you long to push it back behind his ear.  
“You were the one that gave her the dress? What were you thinking” Dean demands  
“Well, I didn't know it would make her want to kill me!” Sam yells right back. All this time she remains with a smirk on her face and a knife in her hand. You’re too confused and angry to add to the fight between brothers as Holly holds them at knifepoint.   
All of a sudden Sam lunges, his muscles rippling as his large frame bounds across the room for the blonde. The element of surprise he has over her quickly vanishes as she attacks him right back, a considerable strength behind her punch. As the grunts and smacking of their fighting continues and Dean joins, you dig your hand in between the couch cushions to locate the extra hidden magazine to put in the empty gun, that she dropped earlier before Sam busted in. You pop it in and turn around to see the Winchester brothers still at no more advantage.   
You jump up and run across the couch, the butt of the gun raised and aimed at her skull. Sam notices and twists her round, her arms and legs thrashing, managing to stab him just like you did earlier. One swift whack and she's lying face down on the hardwood floor. Dean looks at you in awe.   
“Shit, sweetheart, that was badass!”  
“I told you not to call me that”  
Your heart drops when you glance up to see Sam’s chestnut hair and plaid-clad shoulders disappear into the kitchen. On a high from the adrenaline, you follow him, leaving Dean to deal with the unconscious body left on the floor.   
\-------------------  
“Where are you going” you yell after him once he's in your sights, heading out the side door. He pauses, crossing his arms and winces at the pain from his shoulder. It's going to hurt like a bitch later if he doesn't clean it up and treat it properly but right now he's far too stubborn and angry to care.   
“No, you can't do this to me, Winchester. I'm not deaf, I heard what she said, how could you!”  
He sulks back, those puppy dog eyes forcing you to look away and squint your eyes closed before you give in again. You know what’s come next, a huge speech about how he didn’t mean it, it won’t happen again, it’s only you - all lies. Why did you think it would be any different this time, it always ends this way. You really thought Sam would be different, but obviously, you only seem to be attracted dirtbags.   
Instead, he just sighs, then silence. You wait, biting your lip and blinking away tears, arms trembling as you hug them close to your chest. You can hear him fidgeting as well, every brush of his hands through his hair echos, sending chills up your back. Finally, he answers.  
“I would never cheat on you.” He sighs, his voice raspy and low. New tears spill down your cheeks. “I- I have no idea what she was talking about, she’s a fucking ghost, don’t listen to her.”   
You peek up at him through your eyelashes, he looks strained, his face contorted with severe lines and all you want to do is smooth them away. A thin-lipped smile unconsciously slips onto your face. He notices and steps closer, the smell of smoke on his jacket mixed with the smell of sweat and whiskey and that musk that is so unexplainably Sam. You inhale it and sigh.   
“But why would she have said that there must have been something.” you look him in his hazel eyes “Its ok you can tell me…” you say in a small voice, almost reassuring yourself.   
“Babe I promise, nothing happened” he takes another step, he’s so close just a small push up onto your tippy toes and you could practically kiss him. His breath is hot and smells of whisky and mint.   
“It must have just been when I took that girl Holly into the basement to show her the dresses since she complemented yours. She was kinda flirting with me and I brushed it off, ignored it.” his anger was rising, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his shoulders square and rising with his deep breaths. He lapsed, realising his voice was rising.   
“That ghost woman must have just misinterpreted it.” He was softer now, his arm reaching out, fingers outstretched. But he paused, ducking his head and pushing his hand through his hair.  
But that ghost woman must have misinterpreted it, okay?”  
You pull his arm down, gently smoothing down his forearm until you clasp his hand. He is gazing down softly at your joined hands when you push up onto your tippy toes. You pull your small hands out of his and use them to hide his head down so you can kiss him on the cheek. His rough stubble grazes against our pink heel, tickling slightly in the dim twilight. His hands come to rest on your shoulders, long fingers circling and gripping you tight. It feels like heavy lead, weighing you down, keeping you from slipping away and not confronting your feelings  
“I'm sorry Sam” you respond. It's all you can say.   
He just nods as his warm touch travels down and settles on your hips, you flutter your eyes closed in anticipation. His arms circle around your midsection, pulling you even closer, forcing you to bend backwards as he hovers over your lips. One more deep breath and he's kissing you. It feels like heaven. This time he's slow, careful, determined to show you just how he feels.   
At long last, he pulls away and you settle your hands on his broad chest, feeling his heart beating frantically just like your own. Twisting your fists in his flannel you gaze up into his warm eyes. You force yourself to smooth out your hands over his shirt and gently push him away. A flicker of questioning crosses his face but he takes a step back and ducks his head sheepishly.   
“Oh shit.” You mumble, cringing to yourself.   
Sam goes into ultra panic mode. “What is it? I'm sorry, I- I didn't do something, er...?”   
“It’s uh, dinners burnt. I forgot to take out the lasagna” Sam's eyes widen. You just shake your head in frustration.   
“You made a lasagne?”  
“I bought it but, yes... I'm so sorry Sam.” His finger dips under your chin and pulls it up so he can meet his eyes. He smiles down on you, a big toothy grin where his eyes scrunch and wrinkle.   
You can’t help but smile back.


End file.
